


Your Job is School

by Wolfcry22



Series: Shame [18]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angry Dean Winchester, Angry Sam Winchester, Angst with a Happy Ending, Dean Winchester is Sam Winchester's Parent, Emotionally Hurt Dean Winchester, Emotionally Hurt Sam Winchester, Fights, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Hurt Sam Winchester, John Winchester Bashing, John Winchester Being an Asshole, Minor Injuries, Overprotective Dean Winchester, Parental Bobby Singer, Protective Bobby Singer, Protective Dean Winchester, Sad Dean Winchester, Sad Sam Winchester
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-07
Updated: 2020-11-07
Packaged: 2021-03-09 02:40:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,045
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27427321
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wolfcry22/pseuds/Wolfcry22
Summary: When Dean finds out that Sam got suspended for a fight, it’s his turn to give Sam some tough love. (Based on an episode from the TV show Shameless)
Series: Shame [18]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1883236
Kudos: 26





	Your Job is School

**Author's Note:**

> This story is based off of a scene in Shameless season 2 episode 8 when Lip is yelling at Fiona after getting expelled from school. I changed it a bit to have Sam only getting into a fight to be suspended, but the idea is still the same. I could see the same parallels with Lip and Fiona to Sam and Dean. I hope you all enjoy!
> 
> Warning for brief strong language, violence, and potentially triggering themes.

The high pitched ringing of the main phone in Bobby’s house perked Dean’s interest almost immediately from where he was cleaning his guns from the previous hunt. He set down his shotgun and rushed to his feet, feeling his entire body groan in protest. The last hunt had beaten him up more than he cared to admit, with black and blue bruises peppering his body and a black eye to match. Whoever said ghosts couldn’t cause some serious injuries was a liar.

Still, Dean lumbered to the kitchen, well aware that his left lag was practically dragging. He was almost certain that he had broken something down there, but he wasn’t about to drag his own ass to the hospital for them to tell him what he already knew. Worse they would probably make Dean file a police report for the person that had turned him into a walking wound. Dean had struggled not to laugh since what did this to him was a ghost, and he was sure they would probably send him to the mental institution so fast it would make his head spin if he told anyone that. That’s why waiting it out at home was the safest option.

Dean swiped the ringing phone from the wall and set it on his shoulder, allowing it to hold it to his ear since his arm was too sore to keep it there. “Singer residence,” Dean parroted, knowing that whoever was calling was probably looking for Bobby.

There was a pause on the other line. ‘I’m sorry this is Creekside High School and I’m looking for John Winchester regarding his son Samuel Winchester.’

“Shit!” Dean pulled the phone from his ear and mouth to curse. The school couldn’t know that their father wasn’t actually there. He turned back to the phone and felt his pulse quicken. “Uh, yeah.....I’ll go get him.” Dean fumbled to set down the phone lightly and pretended to head out of the kitchen to find John. He hobbled back over and picked up the phone, cradling it back against his shoulder. “Er, yes, John Winchester here.” Dean kept his voice gruff and loud, begging whoever was on the phone would believe that he was John.

There was a pause from the other line before the women answered. ‘Hello, Mr. Winchester. I’m calling to inform you that your son Samuel Winchester was in an altercation today at lunch and has been suspended for the next three days. You will need to come and pick up his work that should be completed by Monday per instruction from each of his teachers.’

Dean’s mind raced as his brain turned to mush, threatening to seep from his ears. The entire world seemed to blur around him as he repeated the words in his mind.

Altercation.

Suspension.

‘Mr. Winchester? Mr. Winchester?’

Dean shook his head to clear it. “Yeah, yeah, ahem.....I’m still here. Thank you for the phone call. I’ll come by and get his books later.” Dean slammed the phone down, body rigid with anger, bewilderment, and terror. He was the one that always got into trouble before he dropped out, not Sam. His little brother was all geeks and books, not fists and fights. Dean had worked so hard so that Sam didn’t need to follow the same path that he or John were on. They had long talks about Sam wanting to get into college, especially as a junior in high school. A fight could ruin all possibility of that, especially with a suspension to go along with it.

Dean stood up and took the flimsy table in his hand and promptly flipped it over. “Damnit,” he screamed, fists swinging through the air with a whooshing sound. “How could you be so stupid, Sammy?!”

The sound of creaking met Dean’s ears and cooled his heightened rage. He turned on a dime and saw Bobby leaning against the entrance to the kitchen, hands shoved into his pockets. Dean hadn’t known that Bobby could move so fast, or maybe it had something to do with how entranced he was in his own anger, either way it didn’t matter to Dean; Bobby was there and he showed no signs of leaving. 

“Care to tell me what all that was about?” Bobby’s flicked his head over to the flipped over table with a broken leg and a large crack through the center. “And why my table was a casualty?”

Dean’s shoulder hunched back, jaw ticking. “Er, sorry, Bobby. I-I didn’t mean to,” he stammered. Although apology wasn’t high on the sentiments that usually left Dean’s mouth, he supposed that he owed Bobby that one.

Bobby took a step forward. “Yeah, well, my original question still stands: what was this all about?”

Dean fumbled over his words, but he was able to articulate to Bobby what the school had said about Sam and his suspension. “And now I have to go pick up his things so that he can do his work and turn it in on Monday,” Dean complained, running his fingers through his hair from his forehead back. “I swear if this keeps him from getting into college all over whatever the hell some idiots said in his class, I’m going to crack some heads!”

Bobby reached out a hand toward Dean. He didn’t rest it on his shoulder because that would be far too fatherly, but he did make sure that Dean was looking at him by nudging him harshly. “Why don’t I go and pick up his work and you can wait for him to get home? If he walks it shouldn’t be more than 10 minutes. Alright?”

Dean was a half second away from pointing out to Bobby that he wasn’t their father and didn’t have to keep acting like he was, but he thought better of it. Bobby was doing him a huge favor, as he often did, so the least that Dean could do was let him. “Alright, thanks.” Dean’s voice was devoid of most emotion as though still numb over the idea of his brother blowing his great potential. 

“Listen to what he has to say first, Dean,” Bobby warned, securing his baseball hat firmer on his head and heading toward the door. He left almost quietly, leaving Dean in the silence of the house without so much as a wind chime or a leaking pipe to add to the sound of his own breathing and thundering heartbeat. Despite his boiling frustration on the matter, he managed to pick back up the table and lean it against the wall. It would take some MacGyvering to put the leg back on and fix the crack, which seemed like the first start to Sam’s punishment for the suspension.

Dean gave his head a shake, pushing the thought from his mind. “I’m not his father,” he muttered darkly. “I don’t get to punish him. Huh, maybe this one time would be okay just to get it through his dense skull that he can’t do this! He’s got too much to lose!”

The sound of the back door clicking had Dean pelting down the hallway without thinking twice. There he found his brother attempting to sneak in undetected. Although Sam wasn’t as tall as Dean quite yet, he certainly wasn’t small and was strong enough to hunt nearly as good as Dean. Their father had been practically begging Sam to come on every hunt that he possibly could as of late. It was Dean’s insistence that he not go, but not even Dean couldn’t fully get his way when John had his mind made up about something. 

“Hey,” Dean began, unsure of what else he could say when he was practically vibrating with caged fury.

Sam gave a nod of his head without meeting Dean’s furious gaze. “Hey.”

“Suspended?”

The pure venom to Dean’s voice wasn’t lost on Sam. The younger Winchester thought that it would be best not to play dumb considering that he had a feeling that the school had already called to let his brother know what he had gotten up to at school that day. It also wouldn’t take a genius to see the black eye, split lip, and bruised knuckles and determine that something happened.

Sam shrugged. “You win.”

“That’s all that you to say?

“I lose.”

Dean’s mouth gaped open. How could Sam be so indifferent in this? “You’re lucky that it’s just a suspension. If you explain it, you should be able to still get into college.”

“Who says I want to?”

“What’s that supposed to mean? Of course you are.”

“No, I don’t think I am.”

Dean couldn’t believe that this was the same kid that spoke every day about wanting to get out of there. Now it seemed that he was doing everything in his power to stay and Dean didn’t know why.

“We’ll talk about this more once you finish school and—“

“I’m not going to finish school,” Sam interrupted.

Dean felt like wind had been knocked out of him. He took a step back, head shaking in shock. “You’re finishing school! End of discussion. You don’t have a choice.”

“I did more than you.”

Dean’s eyes widened in shock. “This isn’t about me,” he snapped, the hostility from earlier rising inside of him until it nearly choked him from the inside out.

“You want me to bust my ass because while those.....” Sam raised his hand into a fist with a stricken look on his face, teeth ground together and bared as he snapped his head down fiercely in bottled up rage. “.....do this! No, I’m not going back there.”

“You want to drop out just because some little shits who act tough are giving you trouble? Shit, Sammy, you are ten times smarter than them. They’re not going to get out of this town, let alone this state, yet why are they the ones that are going to jeopardize your chance at getting the fuck out of here?” Dean took a step forward and pushed Sam’s shoulder, noticing how Sam drew back sharply. “Huh?”

“You weren’t there, Dean.” Sam shoved his hands into his pockets, shifting back and forth with his head shaking. “You’re not there.”

Dean knew that Sam struggled to adjust to the fact that Dean wasn’t at school with him anymore, despite that Sam was a junior. Their constant moving around meant that people saw Sam as fresh meat to pick on and torment. Sam may be able to stand up to whatever supernatural creatures lurked in the darkness, but when it came to people, Sam often couldn’t justify doing them harm even if they did harm to him first. Dean admired that about his brother, yet even he had to admit that there was a line that someone could cross that even Sam would react to. Apparently what happened when the line was crossed was a little more explosive than Dean expected.

Dean leaned back against the wall, arms crossed against his chest, a deep sigh heaving his nose heavily. “Do you need me to teach them a thing or two? Because I will. Just give me the word.” Dean snapped the heel of his foot against the wall. It was strong, but not quite strong enough to leave a dent or hole. He was sure that Bobby wouldn’t appreciate that if he did.

“I can fight my own battles, Dean,” scoffed Sam, sinking his teeth into his bottom lip.

Dean raised his hand to pinch the bridge of his nose. “Clearly you can’t because you got suspended for it. Don’t you understand that you have to be careful now, Sam? You have to have a squeaky clean record. If you don’t want me to do anything about it then you need to let it go.”

“Let it go? Let it go. Would you let it go if you were me, huh?” Sam stormed over to Dean until he was almost standing chest to chest with him, both breathing heavily, waiting for the other shoe to drop. Dean wouldn’t have blamed Sam if he struck at him, but he would’ve been just inclined to fire back at him. “Would you take it if they told you everyday what a piece of worthless shit you were just because John Winchester was your father?”

Dean wasn’t sure what to say. His head gave a adamant shake, understanding and pain souring his features. “Sam, it doesn’t matter what anyone else says around here. You aren’t John and neither am I.”

“Bullshit!” Sam pulled away from his brother, throwing his backpack down on the ground without a second thought. He looked back to his brother, fire catching deep in his eyes. “Anyone who looks at us says that we’re like him just because we’re his sons. They either want money from us because of a debt Dad owes half of the lowlifes in this town, or they just hate him because he’s a useless drunk. Hell, almost everyone here wants him dead! Why shouldn’t they want me dead too, huh?”

Dean knew that there was no talking to Sam when he was this riled up and Dean couldn’t blame him. Being Johns sons on a regular was filled with disappointment and distain for the man that had barely raised them. Dean hadn’t realized how difficult for Sam it was at a school where many knew who John was, and even if they didn’t, they knew Bobby. Although Dean and Sam felt the world of Bobby, neither one of them were very well received in the town. Both were considered drunks that the world wouldn’t care if they lived or died. Now it seemed that this was becoming more of a problem than Dean cared to admit. He noticed the same with Sam and there was only one sure fire way that he knew for Sam to release his frustration in a more controlled away.

He reached out and tapped Sam’s shoulder. “Come with me, Sam. I have an idea.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Dean stepped in front of what may at one time been an actual car. Now it was reduced to a frame of metal that would be useless except for what Dean had in mind.

He glanced around until his eyes landed on a sledgehammer. He reached over and grabbed it, flipping it around and extending the handle toward his brother. “Here,” he instructed. “Take it.”

Sam, who had been resigned to the idea of following Dean into the yard, faced his brother with an apprehensive look in his eyes. “What’s that for?”

“Just take it, Sam, trust me,” Dean instructed, almost poking Sam in the chest with it. 

With a roll of his eyes, Sam took the sledgehammer and ran his fingers over the splintering paint on the handle. “And what do you want me to do with it?”

Dean took a step back and nodded to the metal frame in front of him. “Hit it.”

“Excuse me?”

Dean couldn’t help but snicker. “Hit it. Go on. Trust me, it’ll make you feel better.”

Sam looked away from his brother, tongue running over his split lip. “I’m not sure about that. I think I’ve had enough hitting for one day.”

“At least the car isn’t going to hit back.” Dean gave a wiry smile, blinking his eyes against the rapidly setting sun. “Come on before it gets dark. It’ll make you feel better, trust me. Just pretend that you’re swinging at Dad’s face. That should get you in the spirit.”

Sam couldn’t help but laugh as he positioned himself in front of the metal frame of the car. He switched his sledgehammer from one hand to the other to feel which one felt better. He finally settled on both and lifted the sledgehammer over his head. With a grunt Sam swung it through the air and collided it harshly with the frame. He felt the metal give ever so slightly while a ringing sound echoed through the drunk yard.

Dean punched a fist in the air in excitement. “That all you got? Show me some of the power a Sammy swing can bring.”

Sam didn’t say anymore more as he swung again and again into the car. Each time he felt even more exhilaration rush through him, giving him an edge he didn’t earlier possess. There was something about being able to use his strength like this and take out his anger on something that wouldn’t punch back and couldn’t feel pain that Sam couldn’t exactly place. He had known that Dean was more willing to come out here and swing a few times if their father was in a particularly pissed off mood and took it out on Dean. Sam wasn’t quite sure why he never felt to do this either.

“Pretend it’s one of the bastards that got you suspended,” Dean dared, walking around behind Sam while giving him a wide berth so that his brother didn’t accidentally clobber him with the business end of the sledgehammer.

Sam let out a scream, allowing frustration and rage to pool in his stomach before being leaked from each and ever pore in his body. He slammed the hammer down so hard that it snapped part of the frame in half. Sam stumbled with the residual force, eyes blinking in surprise at what he had actually been able to accomplish when he was that angry with a little prodding from Dean. There was more strength within him than he originally realized.

Dean waited a few moments, unsure if Sam was going to lash back out at the car again. “Sammy, do you want to try it again,” he offered.

It only took a moment for Sam to give a curt nod. “Yeah,” he panted, chest heaving with each breath even at the thought of being able to do this over again.

Dean grinned and leaned back before jumping to sit on the hood of another junkyard car. This was better than any movie that he could pay to see at the local theatre. “Make that piece of junk pay!”

With another snarl, Sam slammed the sledgehammer down again, and again, and again until he reduced the frame to a pile of twisted metal that couldn’t even be used for spare parts.

**Author's Note:**

> I wanted to end this story more on a lighter note than some of the others in this series so its not always doom and gloom. I hope you all enjoyed and are staying safe and healthy!


End file.
